Harry sat in the great hall, pushing the breakfast on his plate around with his fork. He stared listlessly at a spot on the table somewhere between his pumpkin juice and a platter of eggs. This morning had been particularly hard on him. Sirius' death hadn't gotten any easier since it had happened, but last night Harry had relived his godfather falling through the veil in his nightmares.

He hardly looked up when he felt someone sit down beside him. Luna's blonde hair hung loose, and was most of what he could see in the small line of vision that his barely raised head would allow. He didn't even venture a greeting. Luna sitting at the Gryffindor table wasn't out of the ordinary, so he didn't think much of it, just went back to the rearranging of his plate.

Luna watched him for a while; he could feel her big blue eyes studying him. He looked up angrily, ready to rebuke her for her pity. He didn't want pity. He wanted to be left alone with his grief. The words died on his lips when he saw not pity in her eyes, but understanding. Tears filled his own eyes, threatening to overpower him. Luna covered his hand with her own.

"Come on, Harry, let's go somewhere a little quieter," she said softly, but firmly.

She stood, tugging on the hand that she still held. He followed, his body moving automatically after hers. The nook that she led him to was out of the way, and held a small stone bench set into the wall. She cast a quick disillusionment charm and a muffliato over them, allowing privacy.

"I know how you feel, Harry," she whispered.

He grunted a small, angry sound in the back of his throat. "No one understands, Luna. Sirius is the closest thing I've ever had to a parent, and I watched him die. I had to see it. If we hadn't gone, he wouldn't be dead. I did that." Harry's voice grew thick with emotion as he spoke, eventually dissolving into body-wracking sobs.

Luna rubbed his back with small, soothing circles. "Remember when you first saw the the straps, Harry, and why I could see them, too?"

He shook his head, his grief clouding the memory of why.

"My mother died when I was nine. She liked to experiment, and the spell she was working on backfired. I was there, Harry. My pain isn't fresh, like yours is, but I do understand."

He shook his head again, albeit less vehemently this time. "But you couldn't have prevented that. I was stupid, and..."

Luna silenced him with one pale, delicate finger on his lips. "Maybe it would have happened anyway, Harry. You can't be sure. At least you got to see him one last time."

He sobbed again, and Luna pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him. "The pain will dull with time. Someday, you will be able to remember him with happiness, rather than pain." She kissed the top of his head. "You don't have to deal with this alone. I'll always be here for you."

Harry looked up at her with a childlike vulnerability. "Promise?"

She smiled her sweet, airy smile. "Always."